


Death's Sweet Embrace

by ThatgirlnamedEleanor



Category: Wooden Overcoats
Genre: Gossip, M/M, Rumours, Sharing a Bed, because every fandom has to have a bed-sharing fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7348897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatgirlnamedEleanor/pseuds/ThatgirlnamedEleanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Georgie hears a rumour about one of Piffling's older residents potentially dying in the very near future, Rudyard is sent to stay at a hotel owned by said resident, so that if she does die he'll be able to get there first (and endear himself to her family in the process). Unfortunately, Chapman has had the same idea, and what follows results in something neither of them could have expected...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death's Sweet Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my very first Wooden Overcoats fanfic! It was actually incredibly fun to write, and I finished it over a week ago, but I refrained from posting it purely because of the fact that, what with this being such a tiny fandom, there's a good chance that people who're actually involved with the show will see it, and just the idea of that is terrifying (by the way, if anyone from the show is reading this: hi! I hope you enjoy this and don't want to kill me by the end of it. Also, I know you all probably already know who ends up with who, but still, if either of these ships become canon I might actually die of happiness. Just saying). Anyway, any errors are completely my fault, if you find any please don't hesitate to point them out. I hope you all like this!

It all began, as so many things do, with an eavesdropping teenager.

15-year-old Jenny Halterson was universally recognised as Piffling Vale’s biggest gossip, and she wore the title with pride. Her life’s work was collecting and remembering other people’s secrets, not for any malicious purpose, but just for the pure enjoyment of knowing them (though, whenever she did find herself in an argument certain secrets were useful to know…). So it was unsurprising that when the rumour about old Rosie Doncaster (owner and manager of the luxury Doncaster Hotel) having only a few days left to live began to spread, Jenny was the original source of it.

Jenny herself heard it first from her mother, who was employed as a cleaner at the Doncaster.

“Oh yes, I was cleaning there the other day,” her mother said to her aunt, over their fifth mug of tea in three hours. “Rosie’s not going to last much longer, the state she’s in… I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s dead by tomorrow to be honest.”

Jenny, convincingly pretending to be absorbed in whatever TV program was on, grinned. A new piece of gossip! And an interesting one at that! Since the beginning of the famous rivalry between those two undertakers, the hot one and the one who looked a bit odd, news about who was going to die next had become valued above all else among the Piffling gossip elite. 

There was nothing else to be done but to spread the rumour immediately. So she did.

She told her best friend Polly Brown (Piffling’s best young chef) first via text message, who told her older brother Scott (noted Cool Kid and one of the island’s most fashionable residents), who happened to be friends with one Georgie Crusoe and so told her. Georgie, as she did whenever she heard about a potential body in the near future, went straight to her colleague and friend (and if she was completely honest, secret crush, not that anyone needed to know that), Antigone Funn. Together they devised a plan.

Which was how a very confused Rudyard Funn found himself being ordered by his sister to spend the night in the Doncaster Hotel for seemingly no purpose.

“Look, Antigone,” Rudyard said, “I would willingly spend a night in a sewer if I thought it would get us a body, but I still don’t see how spending the night in the Doncaster is going to get us one. Can’t I just go over there once she’s actually dead?”

Antigone sighed, the type of sigh a person can only properly achieve if they are either very tired, very stressed, or faced with someone very stupid. Antigone was currently all three.

“Rudyard, we’ve been over this! People are saying Rosie Doncaster will be dead by tomorrow, and that hotel is her pride and joy. If you just so happen to have been staying there before she dies, you’ll be presenting yourself as someone who cares, someone who knew Rosie and cared about her hotel, rather than just as an undertaker-”

“Funeral director.” Rudyard interrupted.

“What?”

“Chapman calls himself a funeral director, so we probably should too.”

“Oh for christ’s sake, will you stop worrying about Chapman for one minute and focus?! I’m just saying, the family are more likely to book the funeral with us if they like you, and the easiest way to do that is to make it look as though you cared about her when she was alive, so get down there right now!”

xxXxx

The thing about the Doncaster Hotel was that, whilst it was one of Piffling Vale’s best hotels, it wasn’t exactly the largest hotel in the world. In fact, it had only two rooms- two very spacious, comfortable, luxurious rooms yes, but only two rooms. This was a fact that Antigone, Georgie, Rudyard and even Madeleine had all overlooked, as Rudyard arrived at the hotel that evening and was confronted with an immediate problem- Chapman had evidently had the same idea. He stood there at the front desk, looking irritatingly attractive as usual, smiling at the blushing receptionist, and Rudyard almost thought it would have been better if he had actually killed Chapman. Almost.

Rudyard strode up to the desk, ready for battle. With any luck both rooms would be empty and they could have one each. If not, he was prepared to fight for a room if need be- Chapman would not beat him this time!

“Oh, hello Rudyard!” Chapman said brightly. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, you know, I just fancied a night at Piffling’s best hotel.” Rudyard attempted to flash a Chapman-esque grin at the receptionist, but he’d never been very good at smiles (they just seemed to make him look ill). “And you?”

“The same, actually.” He said, but there was an air of dishonesty to his words. Rudyard looked over at Chapman, their eyes met, and then the strangest thing happened- it was as if they had a whole conversation through only looks. From Chapman’s expression, Rudyard somehow knew he was lying, knew he too had heard the rumour about Rosie Doncaster, and knew he was there for the same reason Rudyard was, and it was just… incredibly odd. His heart fluttered slightly and he willed himself to calm down.

“Good good,” he said, wrenching his eyes away from Chapman’s and back to the receptionist. “So, have any rooms free?”

“I’m afraid we only have one room free at the moment, Mr Funn, and Mr Chapman here has just taken it.” Well, balls.

“No, it’s okay, Stephanie.” Chapman smiled again and the receptionist- Stephanie, Rudyard supposed- resumed her blushing. “We’ll share the room.”

Stephanie frowned, her eyes flitting between them rapidly. “Are you sure?”

Rudyard’s mind went blank. Why would Chapman do that for him? Unless it was just his perpetual niceness…

“Yes, I’m sure.” Chapman smile was still firmly in place, and before Rudyard could even say anything he was following Stephanie and Chapman up some stairs, down a corridor with only two doorways along it, and into a room containing, to his absolute horror, only one bed.

For a moment, he just stood there in shock, absentmindedly watching as Stephanie left and Chapman deposited his bag on the floor and went to sit in an armchair by the window. He still looked infuriatingly happy, and that was somehow what snapped Rudyard out of his trance.

“What on earth is going on here?” 

xxXxx

Unbeknownst to both undertakers, the second Stephanie left she picked up her phone and sent a text to a woman named Molly, who happened to be none other than one Jenny Halterson’s aunt. The text was relatively short, and all it really contained was the information that Eric Chapman and Rudyard Funn had just checked into a hotel room together- a hotel room with one bed. Still round Jenny’s mother’s house, Aunt Molly related the information immediately to Jenny’s mother out loud, and of course Jenny heard.

Well, this is interesting, Jenny thought, already reaching to grab her mobile for the second time that day.

xxXxx

Chapman looked at him as though concerned. “…I offered to share my hotel room with you-”

“Yes I know that, but why? Why would you do that?”

“Well, you just looked really desperate, and it was the least I could do.”

“And what, precisely, are we going to do about that?” Rudyard indicated the one large bed in the centre of the room. Yes, it was very big and looked astonishingly comfortable, but at the end of the day there was two of them and it was only one bed.

“Oh yes, I am sorry about that, I had assumed that in a hotel with only two rooms there would be more than one bed in each room, but evidently I was wrong. One of us will have to sleep on the floor-”

“I will!” Rudyard replied immediately. He was not going to let Chapman be the selfless one again- this time, it was going to be him!

“…Okay, whatever you like.” And he went back to staring absentmindedly out of the window at the late afternoon sky, whilst Rudyard finally put his bag down and perched precariously on the edge of the bed, having nowhere else to sit.

A few moments of mildly awkward silence followed, and then:

“Chapman?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you really here?”

Chapman looked over at him and gave a very convincing performance of someone who was genuinely confused. “I said earlier, like you, I just wanted to spend a night at a nice hotel…”

“Ah, but when I said that I was lying. Come on Chapman, admit it, you’re here for the same reason I am!” As he said this, looking over at Chapman to gauge his reaction, Rudyard was suddenly struck with the feeling that if he could get Chapman to admit he was lying, just this once, he’d have won.

“And what reason would that be?”

“Oh, come on, you must have heard the rumour! Rosie Doncaster!”

“No actually, I haven’t, what about her?” He looked completely calm and as charming as ever. Rudyard quietly seethed. He walked over to the bedside table, and set an alarm for 8am the next morning. This wasn’t over.

xxXxx

A few hours after sending Rudyard off to the Doncaster, whilst she and Antigone were in the middle of closing Funn Funerals for the night, Georgie got a phone call. It was her friend Scott again, and as he spoke, her eyes widened.

Antigone rushed over, concerned. “Georgie? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Rudyard and Eric are both at the Doncaster.”

“Oh dear lord. Well there goes our chance-”

“No Antigone, that’s not… look- apparently they’re sharing a room.”

“What? Really?!”

“Yeah, apparently so.”

“Christ. Wait- don’t both of the rooms there only have one bed?”

xxXxx

Almost two full hours had passed since they had first checked in, and Rudyard was not really any closer to getting Chapman to admit he’d lied at all. The man was incredible- finding a way to get around every single argument Rudyard put forward (although it could just be that he was already at a disadvantage- he could hardly use ‘I looked deep into your eyes and saw that you were lying’ as evidence, could he?) Still, at least now, with the sun just beginning to set, Chapman’s patience was evidently finally beginning to wear thin, speaking as he was though gritted teeth.

“For the last time, Rudyard, as I’ve told you many times before- I am here for a change of scenery and a nice peaceful night. That’s all.”

‘Are you sure?” Rudyard was pretty sure this was the first time he or anyone else had seen Chapman even slightly angry, and the idea that he was the only person ever to have affected him like this was oddly enticing.

Chapman took a deep breath. “Yes! For the last bloody time, that is all! I’m definitely not here because I heard some rumour about Rosie possibly being dead by tomorrow and had the same idea as you apparently had!”

A few minutes of astonished silence followed, as both men struggled to believe that Chapman had actually just said that.

“Oh god.” Chapman looked about as shell-shocked as Rudyard felt.

“… It was actually Antigone’s idea?”

“Ha. Figures.”

A few more moments of silence, as Rudyard weighed up the pros and cons of wasting time getting offended at the fact that Chapman thought him incapable of coming up with the idea himself, and then ultimately decided against it.

“So you admit that you lied?”

“I… yes. Yes alright, I lied.”

“Haha! I was right! So what else have you lied about?”  
“What?”

“Well if you lied that one time, you’ve surely lied about other things too.”

“No I haven’t-”

“Chapman, would you like to hear what I think?”

Chapman sighed. “What?”

“I think that half the time you’re being so nice to everyone you’re actually just manipulating them into doing what you say. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re- you’re wrong-”

“Oh my god, I’m actually right aren't I?!”

“No!” Chapman was actually blushing now, and Rudyard found it strangely cute, which was a train of thought he tried in vain to stop as soon as it appeared. ‘Not like that anyway.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Well… look, first of all, I’m nice to people because they’re people and they deserve kindness, and because there’s absolutely no reason for someone to be cruel when they could be kind, okay?”

“Fine, but?”

A deeper sigh, this time. “But… I’ve happened to notice that if you’re nice to someone they’re more likely to respect you and want to do things for you, so-”

“So you’re just nice to people for your own personal gain? Yes!”

“‘Yes’?”

“I was right! I knew no one could be that perfect!”

At the end of Rudyard’s sentence, Chapman turned sharply to look over at him. “Um… you thought I was perfect?”

Now it was Rudyard’s turn to blush. “Not- not like that! Annoyingly perfect, I meant. You know.”

“…Okay.” Chapman said, sounding unconvinced.

There was yet another silence, this time one that veered slightly into awkwardness.

“So what about you?” Chapman said.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, if you’re so against being nice to people, you must have never been nice to anyone in your life, right? I mean, you practically threw up when I talked about people deserving kindness.”

“I did not! I just think that so many people are rude and unkind and don’t deserve kindness-”

“Rudyard, are you or are you not the person who’s friends with a mouse? And besides, I know you care about some people- Antigone and Georgie for starters.”

Rudyard turned to glare at Chapman, only to be met with a mischievous smirk. Abruptly, he realised that Chapman was teasing him, and how the hell had that happened?! The smirk itself was infectious, and before Rudyard knew what he was doing he was smiling back.

“Chapman, shut up.” He said, and was horrified to hear that it almost sounded fond.

xxXxx

By the time the sun had set, everyone in Piffling Vale had heard about the Doncaster situation. Almost half of them believed that Rudyard and Eric had started dating that day, and almost another half of them believed they’d been secretly dating for months and that the rivalry thing had just been a cover up. The remaining sector of that pie chart consisted of Rudyard and Eric themselves, who were blissfully unaware that they’d just become the talk of the town, and Antigone, Georgie and Madeleine, who were all just very confused and didn’t know what to think. Georgie was happy that Eric might finally have a reason to stop pursuing her. Antigone tried to reign in her envy. And Madeleine, who had secretly been hoping for something like this to happen for months now, was overjoyed.

xxXxx

 

“…And that was how I almost buried myself rather than the body.” Rudyard finished dramatically.

They’d been talking like this for a while now, sitting side by side on the floor, propped up against the bed, and Rudyard could no longer deny how very distracting he found it being this close to Chapman. He really was very attractive. And somehow more human, now that he’d finally admitted that he had the ability to lie. And he was laughing at his story!

But no. He couldn’t afford to think like that. He was useless and unpopular, and Chapman was successful and beloved by all; it would be pointless getting his hopes up. Chapman, as much as he hated to say it, deserved someone better than him. And besides, he had ruined his business… not on purpose, but he had!

“I must say, Rudyard, it does sound like you have far more fun doing this job than I do.” Chapman said, once he’d stopped laughing.

“Well, that’s because all of your funerals go off without a hitch every time. All of my funny stories were just the product of my own idiocy.”

“…I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

In response, Rudyard only laughed.

“I’m serious! You’re really not an idiot, Rudyard.”

“Oh. Well… thanks.”

“You might need to work on your people skills-”

“Oh, so I’m not an idiot, but everyone hates me?”

“No no no, thats not what I meant-”

“Chapman, I was joking.”

“Oh.” 

They grinned simultaneously, and for the first time in a long time, Rudyard felt truly happy. 

“Shouldn’t we be getting to bed?” Chapman asked.

“Probably. It is quite late… although I can’t say I’m exactly thrilled about having to sleep on the floor.”

Chapman laughed again. “You did offer to.”

“I know.”

“…We could share? The bed, I mean. I- If you don’t mind.”

Rudyard whipped his head around to look at Chapman. “What?”

“I mean, it would be the logical thing to do… but we don’t have to, in fact, just forget I said anything, we’ll go with the original plan, honestly ignore me-”

“Chapman?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Oh, okay then… so we’re sharing? Okay! Okay. I’ll just… go and get ready then.”

xxXxx

Half an hour later and they were both in the bed, facing away from each other with a respectful distance between them, trying not to freak out over how bizarre this situation was. As Rudyard lay next to his supposed nemesis, he realised he was going to miss this- this brief glimpse of what life might have been like if they had met under different circumstances and become… what, friends? Something more?

Well, whatever it was, it was all going to be over by morning, he could just tell.

That was the one, slightly depressing thought still lingering in his mind as he fell asleep next to his supposed rival.

xxXxx

The first time he woke up, it was very early morning- the sun just beginning to rise, a bright chorus of birds singing outside, the fresh chill of the early morning air permeating the hotel room where they’d left the window open- and Rudyard was curled in someone’s arms. His head was on this someone’s chest, his arms around their waist and theirs curled protectively over his shoulders, and it was warm. Everything was warm in fact- a cocoon of gentle warmth in which only Rudyard and this person existed.

It took five minutes for his sluggish, sleepy mind to get his bearings, and to backtrack and realise exactly who he was- for want of a better term- cuddling.

It then took another five for him to react with the appropriate level of shock and horror.

“Chapman,” he whispered, “what the bloody hell is going on here?! Why am I- why are you- why are we-”

“Rudyard?”

“Y- yes?” he said, trembling a little.

“Stop worrying. Go back to sleep.” Was Chapman’s only reply, as he then, incredibly, pulled Rudyard closer and wound his fingers into his hair.

Then commenced a war in Rudyard’s mind. Half of him- the more awake half- was running around like a headless chicken setting off alarm bells inside his brain, telling every single cell in his body to move away as quickly as possible. The other half was sleepy and comfortable, and very reluctant to move and ruin this rather lovely moment he’d found himself in.

Almost seeming to read his mind, Chapman began stroking his hair reassuringly, and then suddenly the half of him that was more than alright with this situation started helpfully pointing out how good Chapman smelled and he gave up, snuggling closer in a manner he would have been mortified by had he been fully awake.

Five minutes later, he was asleep again.

xxXxx

The second time he woke up it was much later in the morning, sunlight streaming through the windows, and he was woken up by Chapman gently pulling away and getting up.

“Chapman… what…” He began sleepily.

“Shh, Rudyard, it’s okay, I’m just getting up to make us some tea, won’t be a minute.”

“Oh, okay.” Rudyard said, sleepily sinking back into the pillow, before abruptly the memories of earlier came flashing back and he realised what exactly he’d been doing.

“Oh god.” He said, suddenly bolting upright in horror.

“You okay?”

“No, Chapman, I am not- Oh god, that whole thing earlier wasn’t a dream was it?”

Chapman, ever infuriating, looked amused. “No, no it wasn’t. I’m assuming you slept well?”

“Oh god, please for the love of all that is holy shut up! I am never going to live this down, am I? If you ever tell anyone-”

In a flash, Chapman was close again, gently reaching for and then holding Rudyard’s hands and pitching his voice lower, so that when he spoke it was oddly comforting. “Rudyard, please relax. It’s fine, it’s all fine. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“O- Okay.”

“Now, do you want sugar?”

“What? Oh, you mean in the tea. Um, yes, two please.” He really had to get his blushing and pathetic stuttering whenever Chapman came close like that under control.

The next thing he knew, he was being handed an annoyingly well made cup of tea, and Chapman was smiling at him again. A hush fell over the room, and for a few minutes they just existed in silence, sipping their tea, neither really knowing what to say. 

“I-” Rudyard began, before being rudely interrupted by an alarm, the same alarm, in fact, that he’d set last night. The alarm which suddenly reminded him why he was there in the first place- the alarm he’d set to remind himself to check on Rosie Doncaster.

“Bugger.” In one fluid moment, he jumped up, knocked back the rest of his tea, and dashed into the en suite bathroom to have a shower, haphazardly grabbing clothes from his suitcase on the way.

“Rudyard, are you okay?” He heard Chapman call after him.

All he had time to shout before he closed the bathroom door behind him was a single word: “Rosie!”

xxXxx

The death of a person was a terrible thing, some would say the most terrible thing imaginable. Rudyard Funn knew better than those people. He knew that in fact, the most terrible thing imaginable was when a person who was supposed to be dead wasn’t. Actually. Dead.

Rosie Doncaster was fine. Absolutely, completely, utterly fine. All of that had been for nothing. He was so angry about it that he insisted on ranting about it to Chapman, once they’d gone back up to their room after the crushing disappointment of going downstairs and finding Rosie fit as a fiddle. Oddly enough, it actually made a nice change to be ranting about something to Chapman rather than at Chapman.

“All of that was for nothing. All of it.”

Chapman looked at a loss for what to say. If Rudyard had had to guess what was going through his head at that moment, he would have said something along the lines of ‘I’m just as annoyed about this as Rudyard is, but I can’t show it, because I need to maintain my reputation for being the reincarnation of Jesus’.

“Look, Rudyard,” Chapman began, “I’m as disappointed about this as you are, but you should probably refrain from shouting about how sad you that are she isn’t dead. People don’t tend to like, or trust, or really associate with, people who regularly wish death upon other people.”

Rudyard’s eyes widened in shock. Maybe he knew Chapman better that he thought, and wasn't that a worrying idea. “You know,” he replied, dazed, “that’s almost exactly what I thought you’d say.”

“…Okay?”

Rudyard managed to snap out of his trance after only a few minutes of mildly unnerving staring. “Well, I should probably get going now.”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s grab our bags, and… maybe head to mine for a coffee?”

“What?”

“Well… I just thought… we had a nice night, so…”

“Look, Chapman, I’m not saying I’m opposed to maybe being… less hostile to each other in future. God, if the me from a few months ago could hear me now… But anyway, why would you even want me to? You hate me!”

“I don’t! I never have.”

“Well… regardless, we’re rivals! We can’t just… stop being rivals!”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, the world would end or something…”

“…So you’re saying you didn’t enjoy all our conversation last night?” Chapman took a step towards him as he spoke, and he felt himself blush. Dammit.

“Well.. no, I did, but…”

“And you didn’t enjoy sleeping with me?”

“You can’t just refer to it like that!” Rudyard hissed, “That phrasing implies things!” He was blushing furiously now, and vaguely wondered whether, if he died right now, Antigone and Georgie would give him a good funeral.

“Look, Rudyard, I personally had a wonderful night and unless I was hallucinating very vividly for a good bit of it, you did too. I’ve always thought it was stupid for us to fight instead of work together, but it seemed to make you happy to have a nemesis so I just went along with it. But now I’m done. I really do like you, Rudyard-”

“But why?! Nobody likes me! Even my own sister prefers you to me. I’m a complete failure, and you're the ultimate success story! You’re nice to everyone, admittedly for controversial reasons but they don’t know that, and I’m barely even nice to my own family and friends. You’re gorgeous, and you… you have a coffee machine, and… look, the point I’m trying to make is that you are better than me in every possible way, and I’ve accepted that, but… you need someone better than me! I’m going to die alone on this awful little island and that’s okay, but you are an infuriatingly brilliant person and you deserve an infuriatingly brilliant life to match. Honestly, get together with Antigone for all I care, at least she’s got a brain.”

For a few moments, they existed in stunned silence. Chapman’s eyes widened in horror, but Rudyard barely noticed as he cursed himself for revealing practically everything to Eric bloody Chapman.

“Rudyard… none of that’s true. You are not a complete failure, and I’m not better than you! I’m manipulative; at least you’re genuine whenever you interact with someone. You’re a good person! You’re stubborn, and resilient, and funny, you care about people just as much as I do, and you do have a brain!”

Chapman by now had come so close that Rudyard’s heart was nothing short of racing. He couldn’t stop himself from looking down at Chapman’s lips, just for a fraction of a second, and then back up to his eyes, whose pupils were strangely dilated. “I really, really hope I’m not reading this situation wrong,” He said, and then he was kissing Chapman.

He was kissing Chapman.

He, Rudyard Funn, was kissing Eric Chapman.

To be more specific, Chapman’s arms were wrapped around his waist, and his around Chapman’s neck, and Chapman was kissing him, brilliantly so in fact. His lips were soft and tasted of tea and toothpaste, which was a strange combination that should not have worked but was somehow incredible, and Rudyard would have taken the time to get annoyed at how good a kisser he was had he not currently been kissing back enthusiastically. All of Rudyard’s doubts melted away as he got lost in it, so much so that it was honestly a surprise when Chapman pulled away to catch his breath and pressed their foreheads together. 

“Why,” Chapman said, his voice delightfully rough-sounding in a way that Rudyard was very keen on hearing again, “have we never done that before?”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

“As I have said before, Rudyard, you are most definitely not an idiot.”

“C- can I kiss you again?”

Chapman, being a man of action, simply kissed him again in lieu of an answer. 

xxXxx

Half an hour later, Chapman and Rudyard walked out of the Doncaster, holding hands. Chapman was overjoyed, and Rudyard couldn't quite believe this was really happening but nevertheless was grinning from ear to ear, a sight which shocked some Piffling residents as it had never been seen before in living memory. Glancing sideways at each other whenever they could, they walked towards the square where their funeral homes were located, and both of them were so happy that neither noticed a 15-year-old girl, hiding in the bushes, snapping photos of them with her phone.

Jenny, too, smiled with glee. There was nothing more satisfying than when a rumour was true… and Mr Chapman and Mr Funn really were very cute.


End file.
